


a brave new world

by Balthuza



Category: Shards of the Sun (D&D Campaign)
Genre: Gen, Multi, snapshots from being dead, will be updated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 03:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16905198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balthuza/pseuds/Balthuza
Summary: It is a bad idea, even on her list. Not just bad - a downright awful, dumb idea, a chance one in a million, and she's quite sure she used all one in a million chances she had.It beats doing nothing, though.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> not necessarily in chronological order, although most will be

It is a bad idea, even on her list. Not just bad - a downright awful, dumb idea, a chance one in a million, and she's quite sure she used all one in a million chances she had.

It beats doing nothing, though, so when she feels the jaws on her skull tighten again, Flick shuts her eyes and hopes to survive.

As the teeth threaten to tear her apart, even in this form, she knows that she will not.

 

In a last attempt, more instinct than a thought she reaches out and in at the same time, and _burns_.

 

~

 

She's not sure what she feels right now. She's angry, scared and still in shock, but above all, she just wants to cry. For the first time in her life she is truly helpless and hopeless. Her hand does not close all the way, the lighter skin of the scar still a bit tender, and no matter what she does, there's not even a spark of magic she can reach.

There is nobody around and the last time she felt this alone she saw Fyr walk out from the woods, prepared to fight some goblins, or whatever. Even goblins would be an improvement right now.

Wandering through the night, still feeling more than half dead, Flick wonders what was the point, before she breaks down into pieces.

 

It seems polite to thank the young hunter who brings her back in the morning, but it does not sound sincere at all, even to her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes her few years to accept the truth, and it still does not mean that she won't fight to change it.

It takes her few years to accept the truth, and it still does not mean that she won't fight to change it. But that means she's got to change as well.  
The old lady, frail and thin, skin almost translucent is sewing with surprising speed when Flick approaches her, and doesn't even raise her head.  
'I made up my mind. I am ready to be taught.'  
'Nope.'

~

There is a hole in Flick's sock. Or, more specifically, there is some sock around the hole. She puts her whole hand through it and sighs, deciding it is a pretty apt metaphor for her life right now. It seemed to be fine at first, but now her shoes chafe, and there is no tailor here. There is nothing here, and nobody wants her money, going as far as to be offended by the offer. So, right now, she's got no socks. Her coat looks awful too, as do the rest of her clothing. It was made to be reliable and to survive anything a city could throw at her, but right now she'd rather throw herself at the city.  
If there's anything the Sock Disaster teaches her, is that pretending everything is alright and will fix itself will not end well.  
She beats up her pride with a stick and the next morning ignores the amusement of everyone when she sits down with children, half of whose are younger than her shoes, and proceeds to stab herself with a needle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is odd, and just a little bit scary, how quickly humans grow up.

It is odd, and just a little bit scary, how quickly humans grow up. She knew that, of course, but did not understand, not fully. As she watches the weddings of children she remembers learnt to sew alongside her, she can't help but to think about Albany and Oswald. Oswald who went off to do gods know what when she 'died'. She's got no idea how long will pass before she manages to come back.

She's got no idea what she will come back to. The ring she wears is polished to a shine with worry, and she knows she will not be a good company right now, so she backs off from the circle of light, and lets the darkness swallow her whole.

 

~

 

It takes her longer, than probably should to ask others for help, and then the shack ( _house_ Flick mentally corrects herself) is ready within less than a month.

It is a nice shack (/house/), even if it is barely the size of her old room. The walls are wood and stone, and she likes the roundness of the dome of the roof - even if she hears some sniggers as she finishes it. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, mostly thanks to the thick mattress she's gifted, and not her poor wood-working skills, a thin table, and a chair she's quite proud of.

She's better at making things pretty than making things, but that's what the bartering trade is for.

However, her favorite thing are the drawings. The last caravan had enough paper to sell some and she was more than generous with her coin.

The drawings are, objectively, not very good. Too angular to be life-like, very visibly made by someone who never cared about the theory of anatomy.

There are many of them, covering the walls, some reaching halfway up the ceiling. There is Nil, and Fyr, Leo, Cyn, Gin and Steffit, Cosimo and the kids (even if she's quite sure they look more like goblins, than children), Berily, Twiffle, Dross and Cedric, Gal and Nezpra, Cornelia, Tarya, even Devirnor. Oswald and Albany smile at her from numerous ones, there is a terrible portrait of Drem he would set her on fire for, Traían and Ado, Reshi, Xyr, Laurel, Galasser, and Lintari with Sinjin.

The walls are covered with paper, and if that makes her look a little bit crazy, so be it. It makes her feel a little bit better too, so it is an even trade, she supposes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's something of a tradition now

It's something of a tradition now, that wherever there is some sort of a celebration, there us a crowd outside her home, and while the other cook or clean, she braids, ties and brushes hair, or helps to fix some unfortunate make up issue. It took her a while to get back into her old habits, but in the end just because she lives in the wilderness does not mean that she ought to look like an animal. The irony makes her snort quietly. It is a pleasant work, surrounded by chatter and laughter and Flick no longer tries to ignore the fact that there are some people who she used to watch toddle around with ribbons in hair that now are going gray.

Not everything can be fixed, but some things can, and between all of them the youngest tree in the middle of a circle throws enough shade to hold a party under its branches.

There is a bunch of strawberry bushes under it, dwarfed by the size of the roots they grow between.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She still misses cities, but it is more like the idea of the city than city itself.

She still misses cities, but it is more like the idea of the city than city itself. It was years since she was in one by now, and it is... Strange. It's like coming home, only you can see that none of the furniture looks exactly like you remember, and that bathroom door is just a little bit off to the left.  
It is loud. She's gotten used to the quiet of the wilds, but it is a familiar noise, an old song she still remembers the steps to.  
The merchant sees her clothes and the quarterstaff, and smiles widely, in a way that would look perfectly friendly to somebody who did not grow up amongst sharks. Flick smiles back and when she's done with him, she wonders how many times she can rob someone in the broad daylight before she gets arrested.  
Then she looks back at the bewildered face of the merchant comparing his books and the, very few, coins in his hand, and decides that she can do that at least few more times, before they get wary.  
Nobody will share a story, that makes them look like idiots.  
She checks the list of the things they need, and moves forward. A beggar from Nimbohr could run circles around all of those people blindfolded, and they are lucky she did not bring a cart.


End file.
